Monday, August 8, 2011

I've been feeling a bit disconnected;
This has caused me to feel dejected.
We finally hit upon something, I was sure,
Would, once again, make my soul seem pure.

Yesterday, we returned to my roots,
On the bayou with my Aunt Toots
Also in his eighties, Uncle Roman,
Laughing at surprises for which they can't plan.

The greatest gift they always give,
Is joy in having purpose for which we live.
Next time we take a trip to down below
My aunt's going to teach me Grandma's gumbo.

Grandma and her husband owned a general store,
But, for much of their lives, they were very poor.
They threw away nothing, every scrap was used;
The flavors of the meat scraps, Grandma's gumbos infused.

There was chicken, bologna, salami, and ham,
And always a roux, browned with loving hands.
The rest of her secrets, she never did say,
But the finishing touch was a spice called filé.

I will learn to make it, with Aunt Mabel's advice,
Then we'll sit down to a supper of gumbo with rice.
My cousins will come to share a few laughs,
The finishing touch on a Cajun repast.